A Ride to Remember
by Stardust585
Summary: "Do you even know how to ride this?" Stella asked teasingly but her voice died in the screech of tires on asphalt as Mac released the bike's clutch. What happens when Mac takes Stella for a rather unexpected bike ride…and why does he in the first place?


**A Ride To Remember**

**Summary: **"_Do you even know how to ride this?" Stella asked teasingly but her voice died in the screech of tires on asphalt as Mac released the bike's clutch._ What happens when Mac takes Stella for a rather unexpected bike ride…and why does he in the first place? SM one-shot

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. This is only a fan fiction story. CSI:NY and all the characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with their wonderful creations:-)

**A/N:** This piece is a sort of sequel to my other one-shot 'Three Words' but it may be treated as a completely separate whole. There are some references to 'Three…' but I tried to explain them for those of you who haven't read it. Btw, I'd love you to give it a shot, too, if you haven't yet:)

**A/N 2: **I hope this fluffy piece manages to lift your moods up a bit in preparation for the dreaded beginning of season 7…plus, it's cold, it's raining and I'm immobilized b/c I've twisted my ankle (my first cast ever...) – so if anything's ooc or strange, I apologize in advance! Blame it on my temporary disability;)

_A special thanks to **smut1956** for suggesting this to me a couple of days ago _

_and f_

_to **Darcie91 **and **Denese925** for the much needed smile and support:)_

**Enjoy!**

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Stella took a sip of her coffee and repositioned herself on the bar stool she was sitting on. It was her second coffee in the half-hour she spent sitting on the uncomfortable chair and she was getting really frustrated. She would have loved to get herself a drink but she was here on business. Besides, she had her own ride tonight. She looked out the window and her gaze rested on the black-and-silver Kawasaki Ninja parked at the curb outside. Although it had been in an accident before she bought it, she insisted on this particular one. They had history. Like for example the fact that she was the one riding it when the accident happened. Or that it was instrumental in bringing her and Mac together. If she hadn't had that fender bender and Mac hadn't rushed to the ER and taken her home that night two weeks ago, they would have still been stuck in their back-and-forth on that treacherous line between friendship and love, neither daring to cross it probably till something really bad happened or it was already too late.

But that night the line simply ceased to exist. They realized life was too short and fragile to wait. On one hand, they could both quote a hundred reasons why they shouldn't be together and add another hundred protocol rules to support that. On the other hand, there was only one reason why they should. It had taken them ten years to figure out that reason but now that they did, they knew nothing could stand against it. It trampled all the wildest reservations they could ever come up with, the protocol, the NYPD code of conduct, hell, it trampled the Constitution itself.

That reason was three words. The only three words that made sense.

The three words Stella never thought she would hear from Mac. From time to time she'd indulged herself in imagining what it would be like to have a man such as Mac love her but in the morning she would always wake up alone in her apartment and shake her head with a hint of sadness at the impossible notions swimming in her head. And then all of a sudden they weren't impossible anymore. They became the sweetest, however improbable, reality.

It would take a considerable amount of time yet, before Stella would be able to cross out the 'improbable' from the equation. They had both been hurt deeply by life and the people in it, they were both scarred and damaged, unable to trust easily and give themselves away. They shared a reserve and detachment that kept them away from other people and made them alone. How could such people ever find lasting happiness? And in each other? Didn't it seem improbable at best?

Still, that was the key. They understood each other without words, finished the other's sentences and shared a closeness many married couple never achieved. Mac was perhaps one of the few people that were able to really get her, and understand why she was the way she was. Still, among all the similarities they shared, at first there was only one that worked in favour of their relationship, that is their deep need to be drawn out. Despite the superficial reserve and misleading toughness, they both instinctively craved for someone close to love and trust, with whom they could lower their defenses. So they searched, groped around blindly, painfully tripped over Frankies and Peytons of the world, all that when what they were looking for was right under their noses.

Stella shook her head with a self-deprecating smile at their shared blindness when a movement to her right set her senses on edge and put the pleasant thoughts on hold. However smitten she was, she was still on the job and had to remain focused. She swept the crowd with a searching gaze once more but saw nothing suspicious. She had positioned herself strategically so that she had a perfect view of the entrance, all the tables taking most of the space to her right and the dance-floor to her left. No one and nothing could get past her searching gaze.

A new group of people entered the bar and her eyes wandered searchingly over them but when she didn't see what she expected to, her lips formed into a thin line and with an irate shake of her head she turned back to her cappuccino.

"Looking for someone?" a warm voice whispered into her ear and she almost spilled her coffee all over herself. She put the cup down and swiveled towards the speaker. A big smile grew on her face, the first in a couple of hours. Since she had last seen him. He had that effect on her. Always had.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to spook armed women like that?" she asked, her lips shaped in a mock pout.

"The look on your face was worth a bullet," Mac shrugged nonchalantly with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Stella could see he came here straight out of the lab – he was still in his suit and he had that tired look on his face. She leaned in and stole a quick kiss from his lips. She was well aware of his views on any public displays of affection but she couldn't resist it – the awareness that she could do this, that he was hers, was still so incredibly new and exhilarating. She reluctantly leaned back so as not to embarrass him and saw the frown on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't stop…" she began but he didn't allow her to finish.

He cupped her face with his hands and before she knew it, brought her lips back to his, where they belonged. Thus silenced, Stella was completely defenseless against his gentle yet passionate touch. The feel of his mouth on hers was pure electricity and she felt her hands grip his arms, pulling him harder against her. The feel of his heart pounding through his shirt made her dizzy with joy and time seemed to stop.

When he finally let go, she had to gasp – she'd forgotten to breathe. No one had ever made her feel like Mac did and she wanted more and more with every day he allowed himself to open up and show her this wonderfully new side of him she didn't know. She had always been the friend before, important in his life no doubt, but still only the girl on the sidelines. Now she was the _girl_friend, finally in the limelight of his life, just as he was of hers. It was an amazing feeling, second to nothing she had ever felt before.

"The only thing you should apologize for is not kissing me properly the first time," he whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickling the soft skin of her earlobe and sending shivers all the way down to her toes.

She moved her face back a little so that she could look into his eyes and make sure it was the right Mac Taylor standing before her. Throughout the years she had only glimpsed brief moments of the relaxed and even playful Mac Taylor, the one she knew before Claire had died. She was now getting to know this side of him again. At work he was his usual professional and detached self but when the shift was up, he reminded her more and more of the old Mac Taylor. The one who let his heart out of his chest. The one whom she had chosen for her friend all those years ago. And to know that she was the one who was able to finally bring his heart back where it belonged, to turn it back on, made her own heart sway with joy.

All this flashed through her mind as she continued to look into his eyes, which remained inches away. Up this close they were more green than blue and she noticed his irises were sprinkled with incandescent emerald sparks that were partly responsible for the depth and intensity of his stare. He had always communicated more with his eyes than words and what he was telling her now was making her skin tingle and her breath come out short.

Then he pulled away and she instinctively leaned to him, a small pout building on her lips. Mac eyed her with an innocent stare as if he didn't notice the effect he had on her.

She took a while more to regain her composure and then motioned at the bar.

"Want anything?"

"I can think of several things," he began with a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Tough one seems to be coming to the fore…" he slowly leaned in to her, which made her pulse instantly quicken again. But at the last moment he turned to the barman. "…beer," he ordered and the man nodded in acknowledgement.

Stella gave him a measured look, holding herself back from smacking him on the shoulder. If he wanted to play, she'd play. When the bartender served Mac the bottle ordered, she intercepted it and moved away from his reach, forcing him to look at her with amazement.

"I wonder-," she whispered leaning in. "-if beer can do that-" She placed a kiss on the soft skin just under his ear and was rewarded by his sharp intake of air. "-or that-" Another on his temple. "-or that." She let her lips hover over the corner of his mouth but when he was about to close the remaining distance between them, she pulled away with a wry grin.

Mac chuckled lightly. "Touché," he shook his head. "No beer can ever equal this," he added teasingly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she quipped.

Mac's eyes caught the clock hanging on the wall, and realizing how late it was, he frowned at her. "Weren't you supposed to be going back to your apartment? What are you doing here, Stell?"

"Gee, thanks for appreciating my company."

"I'm serious, Stella," he pushed knowing he personally sent her home not two hours ago.

She sighed. "I was on my way but one of my contacts called me and said we might find your white rabbit here tonight."

Mac swept the bar with his ever watchful gaze then turned back to her.

"Berenger?" he asked, his hand instinctively moving to his side where it hovered above his Glock in the holster on his belt. "Are you sure?"

"Apparently he has some unfinished business in the city," Stella smiled seeing his instant shift to 'battle mode'. "He won't get away this time," she enunciated seeing the distress in his eyes and realizing that his playfulness and light tone were a mask he put on for her sake so as not to bring her down. She knew how hard it must be for him and he did it anyway because he wanted her to feel good. Her heart swelled with love and she put a hand to his cheek. He put his over hers and allowed her one of that rare glimpses into his burdened heart. The bulk of that burden was now caused by one Tom Berenger.

Berenger was a petty drug dealer and a thief, one of the many scumbags in this city who made their living by selling drugs to teenagers and if that wasn;t enough, stealing purses from old ladies. So while he certainly wasn't getting the 'citizen of the year' award, he was small fry and would normally never find himself on Mac's radar. Until a week ago. After a deal gone wrong and on the run from his boss, Berenger ruthlessly shot two innocent passersby, Caryn and Eluise Romero, aged fourteen and seventeen. Two beautiful, young girls whose only fault was that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mac was the lead on the case and with his usual passion for justice, he quickly gathered irrefutable evidence to put him away for life in the best case scenario but Berenger remained elusive. According to sources he had left the state and after that, vanished into thin air. Not before killing another innocent man when he was trying to steal his car, though. Mac blamed this upon himself, and however hard Stella tried to convince him otherwise, he got it into his head that if they had somehow managed to work faster (_"That would be possible only if you had magical powers or Kryptonite stashed somewhere in the lab, Mac._"), the man could have been saved.

So, as a sort of punishment, Stella surmised, Mac took upon himself the heart-wrenching task of telling the parents their daughters' murderer got away and they wouldn't be getting justice any time soon, even though he had had no contact with the parents before and Don would normally be the one informing them of the developments in the investigation.

Stella remembered going back from the ballistics lab yesterday morning and catching Mac's glance as he stood in his office opposite a seated couple that she later learned were the Romeros. His jaw was set and his face a white mask of hot anger for the perp mixed with compassion for the parents. By that look, Stella knew that now it was personal and Mac wouldn't rest until Berenger was behind bars. She doubted he would be coming over so instead, she took Danny's shift and stayed at the lab, pulling an exhausting all-nighter but content she got to stay with Mac and be there for him if he needed her. That was all that mattered.

But morning came and then afternoon and nothing changed. Berenger was still in the wind. She was planning on taking a nap in her office and ploughing on when Mac all but bent her arm into going home and getting some real sleep. Like she could get any real sleep without him beside her. Not anymore. She complied only because she knew she could try and talk to him until she was blue in the face but he still wouldn't budge. Besides, she was also running the risk of falling asleep standing there in front of him, which would only prove his point. So she hopped on the bike and drove off, followed by Mac's worried gaze. He wanted to order her a cab but she refused. Ever since the accident, she knew Mac had ambivalent feelings about her riding a bike. He'd never tell her anything up front, he respected her too much to ever do something like this, but she knew every time she rode, he was worried about her. And turned on at the same time. Had she known leather and speed had such an effect on him sooner, well...

And just as she was on her way home, one of her informants she'd reached out to contacted her. After the self-inflicted thirty-six-hour shift and knowing she was running on fumes, she still didn't hesitate a moment and turned around, texting Mac to meet her at the club downtown the informant named asap. Sleep could wait. This was important for Mac and she knew the moment she informed him about this development, he wouldn't leave it be until he got the murderer off the streets. And she would help him as always and be there to make sure herself he got back to her in one piece. Berenger was in a very tight spot and if he got desperate enough, there was no saying what he was capable of. He was not to be taken lightly.

"If he gets away and someone else dies…" Mac's somber tone broke her train of thought.

He was aware she saw through him and knew that his light mood was only a front he put up but in truth, it wasn't all pretend. However difficult a case and however tired or angry he felt, her company made all of it go away. She made him want to reach deep inside to that playful, smiling guy he knew he had once been and wanted to be again for her.

Stella saw him wander away with his thoughts and fearing he was beginning to torment himself again, she squeezed his hand. "He won't," she said aiming for a reassuring tone but she knew Mac wouldn't be at peace until Berenger was behind bars. "He isn't expecting a trap and he's got the best CSI in the city hot on his trail," she smiled. "By which I mean myself, of course," she grinned wryly at him, which did elicit a slight upwards twitch of his mouth. That would have to do for now, she thought with a sigh.

"That's the only reason I still employ you," he said keeping a straight face and she was glad to have him join in their usual banter.

"And I thought I could count on some special treatment now that I've got the boss wrapped around my finger," she quipped.

He folded his arms on his chest, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Oh you do, don't you?"

"You think he's got something against it?" She leaned in so that their noses were almost touching.

"He wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled against her lips and was about to kiss her when Stella jerked away from him.

"Mac, it's him!" she pointed towards the door. "Berenger's at the exit right now!"

Mac was out of his seat with Stella hot on his heels in a flash but before they managed to push through the throng of people and got out, their perp was already getting into a silver sports sedan.

"NYPD! Freeze!" Mac rushed towards him with his gun drawn but Berenger only threw him an amused stare in the car's rear mirror and sped away. Mac angrily bit down on his lower lip and looked around, assessing the situation in a fraction of a second. His eyes fell on Stella's bike standing a foot away, its silver trellis glinting in the bright light the lampposts threw on the alley. He didn't hesitate.

Understanding in a flash what he was up to, Stella threw him the keys, which he caught in flight and jumped on the bike. Stella caught up with him in a moment, catching the helmet he threw her, which left him with no protection gear for himself. She made a frown but this was no time or place to argue about Mac's overly chivalrous behaviour.

She put her helmet on and jumped on the seat behind him. Her arms automatically snaked around his chest and she could swear he shivered slightly. Under all this clothing, though, she couldn't be sure. She would have to try it out when they were somewhat less pressed for time. She propped her chin on his shoulder, her lips almost touching the soft skin under his ear.

"Do you even know how to drive this?" she asked teasingly but her voice died in the screech of tires on asphalt as Mac released the clutch and expertly maneuvered them into a controlled 180 so tight that made her almost brush the road with her knee. _Guess that answers my question_, she thought wryly tightening her grip around him and wondering at the many different ways in which the man in her arms was amazing and never stopped to surprise her.

She didn't have much time to marvel at yet another side of Mac's she didn't know, though, before as she had to hang on to him for her dear life. Berenger had a head start and he drove like he had nothing to lose (because in fact, he didn't) but the bike had an incomparably better acceleration even carrying the weight of two adults, and it was far more manoeuvrable. Mac seemed to be perfectly aware of that and used both these traits to the maximum, going so fast that the tires stopped screeching at the turns but only groaned, making her feel slightly dizzy. Mac was the only thing still keeping her in an upright position, but he didn't seem to even notice the speed, his reflexes immaculate and his driving perfectly in synch with the machine as they navigated through the congested streets of downtown New York. Soon they were catching up on the silver sedan. Noticing them hot on his tail, Berenger made a panicked manoeuvre that brought him into a tunnel against the traffic. Mac had to slow down but didn't hesitate a moment, bringing them plunging into the tunnel at ninety miles per hour.

Berenger had to slow down, too, and he cleared the way for them. The howl of horns and the screech of violently breaking and skidding cars followed them as they navigated around the mayhem left in Berenger's wake. By some miracle, both the chased and the chasing made it out of the tunnel in one piece and Stella frowned seeing their prey was leading them onto the highway. The bike would lose the advantages it had in the city with Berenger's sports car able to reach higher speeds than her Ninja. Besides, without a helmet on, Mac wouldn't be able to drive for long on the highway with speeds exceeding one hundred miles. They had to get him before that. Stella motioned to Mac at a road turn looming in the distance and he nodded his head, acknowledging her plan.

He pushed the speed pedal again and soon they were racing with maximum speed, closing in on Berenger. They were nearing the exit and Mac knew he had to act now. He brought the bike's engine to a howl pushing it to its limits, and turned left, quickly bringing them almost level with the unexpecting perp. Stella reached for her gun and when Berenger noticed them, he instinctively swerved in the opposite direction and crashed into water-filled barrels separating the road exit from the highway.

Mac brought them to a halt and soon they were off the bike and running towards the wreckage. The car had sustained relatively small damage and Stella slowly went up to the car to check the pulse of the immobile man inside, Mac breathing down her neck with his finger ready on his Glock's trigger should Berenger as much as move a finger.

"I'm getting a faint pulse. He's alive. Barely," Stella stated matter-of-factly, straightening up. She reached for her phone and dialed 911.

"Good," Mac said, his lips a thin line. "Dying in a car crash would have been a far too easy death for him."

"His victims' families will get justice," she nodded, putting a hand to his cheek in a swift but undeniably tender gesture. "And you will get some sleep, Captain America," she added in a mock stern tone.

She was trying to tease him though in truth, she was deeply impressed and more smitten than ever. She had to fall back on sarcasm or she would turn into a puddle of thoughtless goo just by looking at him. His wind-swept hair stuck in all directions giving him that boyish look she so adored, there was gravity broken by satisfaction at catching the murderer in the depths of his now deeply blue eyes, and his shirt clung to his body in all the right places, giving her the perfect view of his well-built chest. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. And the things he'd done with that bike…

His unsuspecting voice brought her out of her reverie. "Didn't Captain America ride a Harley?"

She had to take a moment before she was able to formulate a coherent thought. "You wouldn't have done such good time on a Harley," she finally shot back. "Speaking of which, where _on Earth_ did you learn to ride a bike like this?"

Mac looked at her, weighing the possible responses in his mind. This was one of the things in his life he hadn't shared with her, with anyone he had in his life now, he realized. He felt the well-known fears and doubts starting to gnaw at his heart again. He loved her, he had no doubts about that but he had a long way to go before he overcame all the barriers he had accumulated over the years. This was one of them.

"There were lots of dirt roads in Illinois when I grew up," he said evasively, shrugging his shoulders.

"No way you're getting me out of your hair with this answer." She shook her head with an evil twinkle in her eye.

"How about this?" He suddenly leaned in, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss.

"Still unacceptable," she teased moving away and folding her arms on her chest. "You'll have to do better than that, Taylor," she said with a challenge in her voice and he was beginning to pull her back into his embrace to indeed do better when the first police patrol arrived in a wail of sirens and screech of tires.

"You're still not off the hook, mister." She pointed her index finger at him with a menacing stare and they both made their way to the officers.

Soon the place was swarming with unis, emergency personnel and fire-fighters. After giving their statements and making sure all the documentation would be sent off to the lab, Stella felt drained. The adrenaline was wearing off and she was beginning to feel weariness descend upon her in a dark, soft shroud of drowsiness. With a concerned frown Mac put an arm around her to steady her and led her to the bike.

She didn't utter a single word when he got on the driver's seat again and reached out his hand to help her hop behind him. She slowly did, leaning against him instantly and treating his back as a pillow. This time he rode slowly and gently and Stella found herself falling in and out of a soft slumber, her hands always tightly wound around his waist, feeling safe and loved.

**XxXxXxX**

Mac stayed up long after Stella fell asleep in his arms. He marveled at her sleeping, slightly snoring frame gently pressed against his side and couldn't believe his luck. He placed a gentle kiss over her exposed right collarbone and smiled as she stirred but didn't wake up.

He sighed, brushing a stray curl from her forehead and continued to scrutinize her peaceful countenance as if she were one of the greatest mysteries of the universe. And she was. He barely remembered a time when he felt so sure and so afraid at the same time. He was now on the edge of becoming whole and, if he dared to use the word, happy again, and it puzzled him how she was able to get him there when he himself had written himself off as a lost cause. He had stopped trying because at some point he found that it was easier to be broken and damaged. It was easier to hide then, easier to escape the feelings and emotions that were weapons far more dangerous than any knife or gun. Those weapons he had been taught how to deflect, whereas against heartache he was defenseless. Still, she managed to overcome all his barriers, fears and reservations. Month by month, year by year, she stood by him through thick and thin, and she never wavered though he could only imagine how difficult a man to know and love he was.

He tried to be guarded but to her he was usually an open book. Like with the Berenger case. She had deciphered what was going through his head with a single glance and she knew exactly what to do about it. She had come to him to the Trace Lab soon after the Romeros left and gently rubbed his arm, speaking to him without words like she so often did, communicating with those incredible eyes that she was at his side and would help him. She had no idea how much it meant to him. Looking at her then and now, he saw a whole new world waiting to come to life, a future that was too beautiful to ignore. He was beginning to re-discover the joys of being alive and in love again and it was all because of her.

He made a decision. He would tell her how he learned to ride a bike. Just not tonight. Tonight he pulled her closer into his embrace and let himself join her under Morpheus' protective wings.

THE END

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**A/N 1: So how did you like this? How was the chase and Mac on a bike for a change? I'd love to know what you think;-)**

**A/N 2: 'Stalemate' updates next.**


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